used to date a guy who was 6'4 and I'm 5'2 and one time we were arguing and he took a picture of me from his eye level to show me what I looked like from his perspective and honestly that was so disrespectful
romano sits tucked into a back corner of some booth , shirt unbuttoned too low , jacket dumped beside him & another cigarette burning between his fingers . his other hand stays curled around a drink he doesn't remember ordering .
he has company . technically .
there's a photographer from milan who keeps laughing too loud , two models romano vaguely remembers who've spent the last twenty minutes looking his way , & some girl from his agency who kissed both his cheeks before telling him he looked alive .
though romano doesn't feel alive .
his body made it to paris , but the rest of him never left santorini . still caught somewhere on that white terrace , between a half - empty bottle of wine & vlora's bare legs stretched across his lap .
he remembers the way she laughed that night .
remembers wanting to kiss her even more .
romano drains his glass before reaching for his phone ; thinking better of things has never been his strong suit anyway .
her name sits near the top of his recents & he stares at it , thumb hovering over the screen while his chest does that stupid thing again ⎯ tequila , he decides . maybe lack of sleep ? or too many cigarettes ? anything easier than admitting the truth .
anything but her .
1:46 AM
" fuck it , " he mutters , then calls .
four rings later , her voicemail answers .
a dry laugh leaves him as he sinks deeper into the booth . " of course you don't pick up . god forbid you make anything easy for me . "
noise swells around him . glasses clink , the photographer laughs again , music pulsing through the walls .
" i'm in paris , by the way . but i'm sure you know that already , princess . saw you watchin' my story earlier . " he drags a hand over his mouth , eyes fixed on nothing . " i'm at this club near saint - germain . it's expensive , just the right amount of pretentious . you'd fuckin' love it . "
his mouth almost curves .
" you should be here , sitting across from me , making that cute face you do whenever you think i say something stupid . " he admits . " which is , yeah , often . "
he glances down at the table , at the condensation beneath his whiskey . notices the cigarette burned down to the filter , forgotten between his fingers .
" honestly , v ? i think something's wrong with me . " teeth catch his bottom lip , a laugh leaving him , empty of any real humor . " i keep thinking about the villa . . . "
he rubs at his jaw , drunk enough to talk but not drunk enough to realize the repercussions .
" we had fun , right ? i mean , clearly we did . "
the door opens & romano looks up before he can stop himself .
someone steps in from the rain , dark fur coat dusted with water , cheeks flushed from the cold . for half a second , he thinks it's her .
but it's not vlora ⎯ of course it isn't .
his gaze drops back to his phone , where an airline tab sits open on the screen . " so hypothetically , if someone flew back to new york tonight . . . " he pauses , eyes narrowing at the first available flight . " that would be insane , no ? "
he should hang up there . leave it careless & with enough distance that neither of them can call it what it truly is .
instead , his voice drops .
" i don't know what you did to me in santorini , " there's a slur in his words , alcohol evident from the way he speaks . " but i haven't felt right since , "
& that's the closest he'll get to admitting it . no i miss you's ⎯ nothing that solidifies the feeling that's been knocking against his ribs .
romano hangs up before he can make it worse , tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek , irritated by the feeling .
by the silence .
by her .
& mostly by himself .
the airline tab is still open when he unlocks his phone again .
PAR → NYC
one seat left .
romano stares at it for six seconds . . . then he books the flight .
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